


Fracked

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-16 22:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3504800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How hard can it be?" Kyungsoo thinks. He doesn't have a fucking clue what he's getting himself into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fracked

Kyungsoo auditions for the marching band on a whim at the end of junior year. It's late May, one of the last audition dates of the year, and mostly he does it just to shut Jongdae up because _it's not that fucking hard to get in, I'm a performance major. Watch this_ and there's an embarrassing two weeks where he's wait-listed before he finally earns a spot in the first clarinet section. Chanyeol buys a round of shots at the bar when he gets the news and starts talking about the likelihood of the football team pulling their heads out of their asses long enough to score a bowl appearance. He's been bringing this up at regular intervals ever since the class of new recruits was announced because there's some sophomore transferring in from USC with an impressive highlight reel that's apparently "un-fucking-believable."

(Kyungsoo's hazy on how American football works, so he's taking Chanyeol's word for it, but his stomach still flutters a little when he thinks about what that might mean for his senior year.)

"Trips are the fucking _best_ ," Chanyeol says, fiddling with a coaster. "NCAA pays for everything and all you've got to do is stay sober enough for the halftime show and you're home free."

"Party in the hotel after—fuck, do you remember freshman year?" Jongdae says, eyes going hazy with the memory. Kyungsoo wants to ask but Chanyeol cuts in with a story about the dance captain and the opportunity's lost.

"This season is going to be epic," announces Baekhyun. "Prepare yourself, Kyungsoo. And stick with us. You don't have a clue what you're getting into."

Kyungsoo thinks he's ready. He's been friends with Jongdae, Baekhyun and Chanyeol since freshman year, back when the four boys shared a suite in the boys' residence hall. _They've_ all been marching since high school, but Kyungsoo's the only music major among them. He thinks that's probably an advantage.

"How hard can it be?" he asks, gesturing for another round of shots.

Chanyeol laughs and pats him on the back. "Let's continue this conversation in September, okay?"

 

Kyungsoo discovers pretty quickly that it's actually very hard, especially when you're used to playing in seated concert ensembles instead of marching up and down a football field for hours at a time. Camp starts the week before classes and it's fucking brutal in the August sun, running sprints until he's dizzy with sunstroke, dry-heaving on the sidelines until his section leader pours some water down his throat and tells him to get it together. He learns how to roll-step and back march. He aces his memorization test and feels smug but that feeling's erased pretty quickly when he struggles to play and mark time at the same time without falling out of step with everyone else. It's an entirely different kind of coordination from his normal ensemble experience sitting at the back of the orchestra in the air-conditioned performance hall.

But adjusting to expectations on the field is nothing compared to what happens after-hours. His liver's never been so overloaded. He hears stories—the piccolo section leader spending the night in the drunk tank, showing up to the eight am rehearsal in his clothes from the day before, or one of the sousaphones nursing a hangover so bad he vomits in the middle of the routine they're working through (Kyungsoo's grossed out by that one, but also has a weird sort of admiration for the kid, who doesn't miss a step).

Chanyeol helps him through it. He's always pulling drinks out of Kyungsoo's hand and draining half of it before he returns it, just to help Kyungsoo keep up. "You'll get there," Chanyeol says after draining the last half of Kyungsoo's seventh beer. "By the end of the season, you'll be putting everyone in their place. Just watch." Kyungsoo has some serious doubts about that. Chanyeol's a machine—his eyes aren't even glassy yet.

Kyungsoo's also struck by how segregated the band tends to be when it socializes at night. He's usually the only woodwind player at these things. He likes his section enough, but he's more comfortable in situations when his real friends are with him, so he alternates weekends between the trumpet house and the trombone house, depending on where the party is that week. Jongdae, the drum major, seems to have the widest circle of friends and mingles with everyone, but even he seems unable to escape Baekhyun and Chanyeol's orbit for too long.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol are both section leaders this year and keep trying to out-do each other. This is Chanyeol's first year at the head of the trombone section leaders and doesn't let anyone forget it. His hazing of the freshman is notoriously brutal (" _Because it's tradition,_ " he says when he sends one back to the store at midnight for a different brand of ping pong balls just to be contrary). Baekhyun, too—he makes one of the freshmen clean out _everyone's_ trumpet before he's allowed to come to the party as punishment after he'd failed his second playing test.

There's one memorable night at the trumpet house where Baekhyun organizes a black light party and they spend the whole night in the dark writing on each other with highlighters. Which is fun, except Kyungsoo gets royally fucked up on some concoction Jongdae brings him an hour in and the rest of the night's a blur. He wakes up with a yellow penis doodled on his cheek that takes forever to wash off and some sort of pink scribbling around his chest with " _bath plug nipples_ " written next to it in Chanyeol's messy scrawl.

Baekhyun rescues the shirt from the trash when Kyungsoo tries to toss it. "It's amazing, you have to keep it," he says through his laughter. "Wear it next time."

Kyungsoo hides it at the back of his closet and makes a mental note to skip the next black light party, just in case Baekhyun remembers the stupid shirt.

 

So Chanyeol brings the trombone-trumpet rivalry to a friendly head when he decides to organize a keg race between the two sections. He secures two keg permits for some shitty domestic lager and "First section to win doesn't have to pay cover at parties for the rest of the semester," he announces grandly like he already knows he's got the thing in the bag.

"What about Kyungsoo?" Baekhyun asks, arms folded across his chest.

"What about him?" Chanyeol asks, dumping a bag of ice around the keg to keep it cool. "You guys have thirty guys. We have twenty eight. We're taking Kyungsoo."

"He's not a trombone. It's not a clean win."

"My party, my rules," Chanyeol says with a shrug. "You can always forfeit."

Baekhyun's face contorts for a moment but he doesn't push it. "Fine," he says. "We're still going to kick your ass. It takes Kyungsoo a fucking hour to finish a beer, he's more of a handicap than anything."

"Don't listen to him," Chanyeol murmurs in Kyungsoo's ear, taking him by the shoulders and giving him a brusque shake. "We're going to dominate. The trombones can drink the trumpets under the table every time. Just do what you can."

Jongdae comes forward to referee the whole thing and Kyungsoo starts to feel nervous when he sees exactly how big a keg is. "How many do we have to drink?" he asks, licking his lips.

Jongdae does some math on his fingers and comes back holding up six. "Give or take," he says. "No sweat."

_Easy for you to say,_ Kyungsoo thinks. _I'm going to die tonight._

 

Kyungsoo feels like he's going to explode after his second beer. The liquid volume is enough of a struggle but when the alcohol starts leeching into his blood stream and he feels everything start to get warm he _knows_ he's in trouble.

"Come on, Bathplug Nipples!" Jongdae crows, pouring him a third cup. "Catch up."

Kyungsoo winces at the nickname and tips a third of the foamy liquid into his mouth. He can't even bring himself to swallow right away, just sits there with a mouth full of beer trying to will himself to just _finish_. He's making deals with his body— _I promise I will never drink again if you promise not to embarrass me right now_ —but he's starting to get stomach cramps and he realizes most of his prayers are in vain. He hates the taste of this stuff—kind of soapy and dry, unable to quench his thirst no matter how much he drinks. Fizzy, too. He keeps burping quietly into his fist and blushing every time Baekhyun calls attention to it by burping at an offensively loud volume in response.

Chanyeol's right next to him, eyes trained on him over the rim of his cup even as he chugs. He's a fucking _artist_ when it comes to speed drinking, the way he just opens his throat to make room, finishes in three quick swallows like it's nothing. Kyungsoo watches the bob of his Adam's apple and suddenly feels queasy. The smell of beer is overwhelming and it's not helping his nausea.

"You okay?" Chanyeol asks, handing his cup back to Jongdae for a refill. "You're all pale."

"Dude, it's okay to slow down," Baekhyun says, and Kyungsoo's hearing is starting to tunnel. He can't even tell if Baekhyun's being sincere and looking out for him, or if he's just teasing in his attempt to win the keg race.

Kyungsoo closes his eyes, tastes something metallic under his tongue, and realizes he's not going to make it to a bathroom.

He does make it to the shrubs. Doubled over, hands pressed over his stomach, face wet with cold sweat and tears because he's never been able to throw up without bursting into tears as well. He doesn't know how long he stands there but he hears jeering in the distance, faintly, but he can't make out what they're saying and doesn't particularly care. He closes his eyes and waits for the waves of nausea to finish rolling through his body.

Chanyeol's voice comes from behind him. "Get everything? You've got to be running on empty by now."

Kyungsoo laughs and stumbles back from the bushes, wiping the spittle from his lips with the back of his hand. His eyes are watering and his throat burns but he feels better. Shaky, but a lot less like dying than he had half an hour ago.

Chanyeol pats the porch step. "Come here. Sit for a while, get some fresh air." He pulls a bottle of water from somewhere and pushes it into Kyungsoo's trembling hands. "Drink it. Slowly."

"Thanks." Kyungsoo uncaps it, takes a tentative sip and wrinkles his nose when his stomach curls in on itself, disgusted with the idea of allowing anything in his body right now. "Trombones are going to lose without you," he says, sniffing.

"That doesn't matter," Chanyeol says, rubbing slow circles Kyungsoo's back to comfort him. "Either we win and I get bragging rights, or we lose and I get to punish the freshmen."

Kyungsoo chuckles weakly. "Always a bright side for you, huh?" he says, wiping at his runny nose with the back of his hand. "Sorry about your bushes."

Chanyeol shrugs and unzips his sweatshirt, drapes it over Kyungsoo's shoulders to try and combat his shivering. "They've seen worse and survived."

"I bet." A pause. "You know, you guys were right. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. This has been pretty hard."

Chanyeol puts his arm around Kyungsoo's shoulders but mercifully doesn't squeeze him tight the way he usually does. "I think you're adjusting just fine." He looks down. "Why, do you hate it?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head and then wishes he hadn't when the whole world goes off-kilter for a second, then corrects itself. "No, it's just. Different. Not as easy as I thought it'd be."

Chanyeol considers this and then gestures at the water again. "Drink. Seriously. You'll hate yourself in the morning if you don't."

A loud cheer erupts from behind them and Baekhyun streaks past with his arms in the air. "Suck it, Park!" he crows, making finger guns at a sheepish Chanyeol who won't meet his eyes. "Hope you're feeling better, Kyungsoo!" and then he's gone again.

"Man... fuck, he's going to be such a pain in the ass for the rest of the semester," Chanyeol laments, shaking his head sadly.

"Sorry." Kyungsoo hiccups and feels his body go cold again. Chanyeol looks over at him.

"Don't worry about it. Not your fault." He points at the bushes. "Go on. You look like you're ready for round two."

 

So Kyungsoo wakes up in Chanyeol's bed, legs tangled with Chanyeol's, face warm with the slow huffs of Chanyeol's beer breath that fan out across his face each time he exhales. His tongue is heavy and dry on the roof of his mouth and his skull feels like it's laced with a series of fine cracks that steadily grow wider as he tries to roll over and look at his surroundings.

Jongdae and Baekhyun are hovering at the door with their phones out, snapping pictures and giggling like school girls at the compromising position Kyungsoo and Chanyeol have gotten themselves into. Kyungsoo doesn't remember much about the night before, just that Chanyeol had set up his trashcan and pulled him into bed to keep him warm. Nothing weird, just. Taking care of him.

"Fuck off," Chanyeol groans without opening his eyes. Kyungsoo hadn't even noticed he was awake.

"Rehearsal's in half an hour. Are you going to shower, or are you just going to show up all crusty?" Jongdae asks.

"I can't play like this," Kyungsoo whimpers, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "I feel like I'm going to die."

A towel lands on his stomach with a heavy thump and he winces, realizing for the first time just how empty it is after last night's debacle.

"You smell like shit," Baekhyun says. "Be downstairs in fifteen or you're walking to the practice fields."

Chanyeol lies there for a long time after Baekhyun and Jongdae leave. He doesn't even bother moving his legs away from Kyungsoo's. "How are you feeling?" he asks after a moment. He sounds just as miserable as Kyungsoo feels.

"Like a garbage truck backed over me."

Chanyeol reaches out and pats his thigh encouragingly. "We'll work on it."

Kyungsoo feels his stomach lurch again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> * [in case anyone's curious about the title](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=frack&defid=1662339)


End file.
